


A Foregone Conclusion

by jenny_of_oldstones



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, M/M, alternative title: Dorian does not understand bisexuality and it makes him insecure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-14 07:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15383907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenny_of_oldstones/pseuds/jenny_of_oldstones
Summary: Dorian finds out that Trevelyan enjoys the company of men...and women.It causes all his old doubts and fears about finding love to come rushing back.





	A Foregone Conclusion

 

 

 

"So," said Dorian with a smirk. "I've noticed you have excellent taste in men." 

"Men," said Trevelyan, smiling back. "And women." 

"Oh." Dorian felt his face fall.

Oh. 

 

* * *

 

“Will you look at that,” said Varric.

Dorian glanced up from his ale. Through the tavern window, he could just see the Herald and Cassandra walking along the path together. The Seeker had an expression on her face like she wanted to hit Trevelyan—and she did, rather hard in the shoulder—before it melted into a smile.

She only ever seemed to smile around him. And Trevelyan—

Trevelyan rubbed his shoulder and continued down the path with her. His laugh carried back to them after they disappeared around the corner.

“Who would have thought,” said Varric, sipping his own drink. “Do you think they get off on yelling at each other, or is it just one of those weird mage-Templar kinks?”

Dorian could not have cared less about southern politics at that moment. He returned his attention to his ale and downed it in one swig. The ale was chewy, and it made his eyes sting.

 

* * *

 

“Do you think we should be worried?” asked Blackwall.

They watched Trevelyan walk through the gates of Minister Bellise's estate. Laughter and the tinkling of glass carried over the hedges, a flute and mandolin being played somewhere inside. They had ridden to Val Royeaux to take of some urgent business for Josephine—something about raising a family of farmers to a minor lordship—which Trevelyan had insisted on dealing with alone.

He disappeared inside the house. The two servants and the door gave his staff and mage coat a glance, but otherwise no sign of danger presented itself.

“I trust he knows what he is doing,” said Solas. “For now, we can only wait.”

And so they did. They sat on a bench outside the manor, their heads against the warm stone wall beneath the ivy, sweating in the sun.

“You seem preoccupied, Dorian,” said Solas. “Does something trouble you?”

“I wasn’t aware you cared one wit about my troubles.” Dorian did not miss the challenging tone of the elf. It was rare for the other mage to bait him, but his expression must have been a dour one.

“I merely noticed you fidgeting,” he said. “Do you trust so little in the diplomatic skills of our Herald?”

“I’m just wondering how slowly Josephine will flay alive when we tell her we let him walk into the minister's lair unguarded,” he said. “How long has it been?”

“Not so long as you fear,” said Solas.

“In any case, he seems to be doing all right,” said Blackwall.

They followed his gaze to a first-story window. The white curtains were billowing, but beyond them they could just see Trevelyan. In the adjacent window sat Minister Bellise, masked and frilled in her party dress, seated on a settee.

“Must have taken their business away from party,” said Blackwall.

As they watched, Trevelyan crossed from his window to the minister's. He stepped closer, until they were toe to toe. Then he pushed his knee, emphatically, between hers.

The minister did not move, but they heard her outraged cry. Trevelyan tilted his head slightly, one eyebrow raised.

A moment later, Minister Bellise threw off her mask and leapt at him. The two of them tumbled onto the floor, petticoats and boots and smallclothes flying like confetti into the air.

“Oh,” said Blackwall. “Well then. How old was this woman again?”

Dorian felt blood rise hot into his face. He felt dizzy. A rhythmic, female panting began to skirl higher and higher in the air, until the music cut off, and a curious murmur rose from the party. Dorian stood and said he was going to take a walk around the gardens, just as the pants became a scream.

 

* * *

 

“The Inquisitor gets more admirers every day,” said Cullen.

Dorian glanced up from the chess board. Trevelyan was strolling around Skyhold’s gardens, arm in arm with a Fereldan baroness.

“Most of them wouldn't have touched him when he was an apostate. Now they all beg for his attention like it’s honey. Have you seen the calf-eyes Harding gives him?”

“No,” said Dorian.

Cullen shook his head. “I think Josie’s a bit touched herself after her called off that assassination plot on her.”

“It’s the effect he has on people,” said Dorian.

“Yes,” said Cullen slowly, as if realizing it for the first time. “He makes you feel like you’re the center of the world.”

Dorian’s mouth was covered by the back of his hand. He studied the chess board hard so hard that Cullen finally said,

“You’re rather morbid this afternoon. Is everything all right?”

“More than all right,” said Dorian tonelessly. “I just captured your knight.”

 

* * *

 

“I don’t get it,” said Bull.

They were seated on furs around a fire pit. The Avvar next to Dorian passed him a plate with salted pig snouts, which he passed along to Bull.

Across the fire pit, the Inquisitor sat beside Thane Svarah Sun-Hair. The older woman had her hood lowered, and her braid sat thick and knotted on her shoulder, bringing out the red of her freckles.

“What is that women like her see in him?” growled Bull. “You’d think she'd notice the seven foot Qunari sitting right here.”

“Hush,” hissed Dorian.

He strained his ears to listen. The thane had been courteous to the Inquisitor when they first arrived, but upon witnessing him finish off Hakkon Wintersbreath with single stroke of lightning, had had eyes for no one else.

“You and your people are welcome as kith and kin at Stone Bear Hold,” she said. “Our homes and hearths are open to you, as well as our meat and mead.”

“The Inquisition thanks you,” said Trevelyan. "We look forward to a fruitful friendship." 

“I must admit, your reputation precedes you," said Svarah. "It did not surprise me to learn that you were the one to kill the god of winter.”

“I could not have done it without my team. It was hardly a singular effort.”

“Still, I am told that the lowlanders have little respect for magic, and that your Inquisition fights to change that," said Svarah. "That is good to hear. A man such of yourself should not be caged.”

Sera was snickering. She elbowed Bull in the ribs, and the Qunari elbowed her back. The force of his elbow sent Sera toppling right into Dorian, and he shoved her off roughly.

“You will of course stay the night?” asked Svarah. “I would not wish to send you off with less than Avvar hospitality."

“Thank you,” said Trevelyan. “I did not relish the thought of walking back to our camp through the jungle in the dark.”

“Your people will be shown to their berths, then,” said Svarah. Here, for the first time, she hesitated, and her cheeks were as red as her hair in the firelight. “I believe we should discuss the terms of trade for our alliance this evening.”

“I look forward to it,” said Trevelyan, in a voice as smooth as butter. Sera cackled into her hands now, and only Bull turned his head to see Dorian leave the cavern.

That night, lying awake in his furs beside a snoring Sera, he heard Bull turn over on his side.

“You know,” said Bull, “I never took you for a chickenshit.”

“I beg your pardon?” said Dorian.

“You want the boss, and you’re too scared to go after him because that Tevinter crap has got you twisted up inside.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

"You think just because someone likes women they can't like men, too?" Bull snorted. "No, you're not that naïve. It's that you don't think he'd ever settle for a man. Not when there's more pussy to choose from."

"Why would anyone take the harder path?" Dorian snapped. There were tears in his voice, and he despised himself for it. "Why settle for different, when you can pretend to be normal? You honestly think any man would choose _this_ , and all the hatred that comes with it, when he doesn't have to?"   

The Bull’s silence was hard in that cold cabin. Finally, he said, so low that it was almost inaudible under the snores,

“If you think he's that much a coward, then why the hell have you been pining after him this long?"

And with that, the Bull rolled back over. Dorian stared up at the ceiling, thinking of home, and the fear in his chest that filled him with shame.

 

* * *

 

Two crows tumbled after each other through the air above Skyhold.

“Falling, fluttering, floating—they both feel it under the breast.” Cole perched like a gargoyle on the garden bench beside Dorian, though Dorian could not say when the boy had appeared there. “Freedom of the sky, freedom from the Circle, freedom from cages. That’s what it is to be a bird, not a mage, but feathered, flying, free.”

Dorian ground his teeth. He watched the larger of the crows chase the smaller, the two calling to each other in harsh croaks, battering each other with their wings in play. They plummeted to the grass and, in a flash of light, transformed back into two humans. Morrigan and Trevelyan lay in a heap, both of them laughing until they were red.

“Oh, tis a marvel to meet another!” Morrigan sounded younger than her years. She wiped the tears from her eyes, and Trevelyan, wheezing, pulled her to her feet. “All this time, and I have never met another shapeshifter.”

“I never hoped to find someone else," Trevelyan said in a husky voice. His black hair was a mess. "It still feels like I'm dreaming, after keeping it a secret all these years.”

Trevelyan was still holding Morrigan’s arm. Their laughter petered out into a long, mutual sigh, and they grinned at each other. It was such a revolting sight that Dorian pushed himself off the bench and stormed back inside the castle.

“You’re....afraid.” Cole followed after him like an evil shadow. "Rejected, rejected, again and again. They loved you in the night, but in the day they returned to their wives. Always the wives, always women, always wandering back to what you were not."

"Shut up."

"You gave them everything, and in the end, they left you. Marriage, propriety, children. All the things you couldn't offer them. All the things you'll never have." 

"I said shut up." 

"In Tevinter, you never hoped, but here, you do. If he says no, then it means there’s no hope anywhere. The worst thing of all would be to lose hope in him, because he gives you hope in everything-”

"I _said_ -" Dorian spun and grabbed Cole by the shirt. The spirit blinked at him with pale, watery eyes, more startled than afraid.

Dorian's arm was shaking. Slowly, he released his grip.

"Please," he said. "Leave me." 

The spirit vanished, and Dorian stood alone in a dark hallway. All his life he had faced rejection, and here at last was the one that might kill him. He remembered the way Trevelyan had held him after the confrontation with his father, and how Dorian had pushed him away. He remembered later, how Trevelyan had returned his amulet, his green eyes full of longing, and how he had pushed him away again. Trevelyan had called Dorian brave, back then.

But Dorian had never been brave.  

A week later, while passing through the gardens, a flash of magenta drew Dorian’s attention. He turned his head to see two figures standing behind a hedge.

One was Morrigan, with her back pressed against the wall. Her arms were around Trevelyan’s neck, and his fingers were in her hair. They were kissing languidly, as if they had been there all evening, wrapped around each other in the leaves and the dew and nature. He kept walking, and didn't look back.

 

* * *

 

“I plan to return to Tevinter,” said Dorian.

“Oh.” The Inquisitor’s face fell. Dorian waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. 

“I’ve been here for over a year,” said Dorian. “Surely you expected this?”

Trevelyan took a step back. He genuinely seemed dumbstruck, as if the notion that Dorian would not always be kowtowing behind him had just occurred to him.

"I need you here," blurted the Inquisitor. He had caught himself on the library bannister and clutched it now. 

"Doubtful," said Dorian. "You have an entire army of mages at your disposal. What could you possibly need me for?" 

Trevelyan stared at him. If Dorian did not know any better, he had successfully wounded him.

"Am I dismissed?" said Dorian, in a hollow voice.

"No. You are not." 

"Really, this is tedious. We both know you don't need me here-"

"We both know that?" 

There was redness in Trevelyan's eyes now, and more than a little anger. 

"You really think I could stand it if you left?" asked Trevelyan. 

"You seem to have been getting along quite well without me this past year," said Dorian. His own temper was growling like a furnace inside him. "If your company has reflected anything."

"What is that supposed to mean?" 

"You haven't lacked for companionship, Your Worship. Mine would be a drop in a very deep well. Or are we going to pretend you haven't happily been bedding half the Inquisition this past year? The female half?"

It would have been nice if the Inquisitor had been confused by that statement. It would have been better if he had protested ignorance or innocence. 

Instead, the rage that curled his nose in a snarl told Dorian everything he needed to know.

This was a fight Trevelyan had had many times before.

"That's what this is about? That I enjoy women, too?"

"Your tastes seem telling, that's all." 

"And it would be different if I had only been with men? You'd be less suspicious of my desire for you? That would make the difference?"

" _Yes_." Dorian didn't care how loud he was now. "Yes, Inquisitor, because no matter how familiar this conversation must seem to you, I assure you, I've been here just as often. You claimed to have wanted me, once, and I'm sure I would have given you a thrill. But after you had had your taste of the forbidden, you would have cast me aside for the safer choice." 

"That's not how it works." 

"No? You're helpless in the matter? You don't have a choice? All the people in the Inquisition, and it was a coincidence that you only slept with-"

"You didn't want me!" 

The words echoed around the rotunda. More than a few heads peeked out of the library stacks to gape at them.

"You didn't want me, Dorian," said Trevelyan, anguished now. His cheeks were wet. "You pushed me away, over and over. What was I supposed to do? Cut myself off from everyone? Be alone while trying to keep the world from falling apart? That day in Haven, I told you what I was, and you looked at me like there was something wrong with me." 

Trevelyan covered his face with his hands. It was too awful. Dorian went to him, because what else could he do? He was a fool.

He had always been a fool.

 

* * *

 

"I still have to go home," murmured Dorian.

"You'll come back." Trevelyan was wrapped tight in his arms, his breath warm on his shoulder. "I'll send agents to knock you over the head and drag you back if you don't."

Strangely, Dorian didn't mind the sound of that. The sheets of the Inquisitor's bed were cool against his body, and the man pressed against him tender and warm. He wished he could have the last year of his life back.

"Did you sleep with all those women just to make me jealous?"

"No." Trevelyan caressed a hand down his side. "But it was a bonus."

"What a wicked creature you are," murmured Dorian, drifting off. _And you're mine._

They fell asleep in the dimming light of the tower, until the candles winked out one by one. The only shape that remained in the darkness was that of two men together in bed. 

 


End file.
